


Reflections of Betrayal

by Tranyaq701



Category: Star Trek: Mirror Universe, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Abuse, Bondage, Dominance, Forced Ejaculation, M/M, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 13:58:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10439199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tranyaq701/pseuds/Tranyaq701
Summary: "I must have my captain back."  Commander Spock of the I.S.S. Enterprise had no idea how much he would come to regret those words.





	

 

  
"Farrell to Captain."  
  
Kirk flipped the switch on the command chair. "Go ahead."  
  
"Sir, Mr. Scott has just finished. I believe you will find everything to your liking."  
  
"Acknowledged." Captain James T. Kirk of the I.S.S. Enterprise closed the channel and settled back in his chair, a satisfied grin on his face. He was keenly aware of the curious and speculative glances from the bridge crew, no doubt wondering exactly what was going on. He paid them no heed. He had no intention of enlightening them as to the meaning behind Farrel's cryptic message any more than he was going to explain why the ship's first officer had remained conspicuously absent since their mission at Halka.  
  
He shifted his gaze to Uhura. Unlike the others, her eyes remained focused on her board. He had no doubt her apparent lack of curiosity was a result of the "lesson" he had hammered into her and Scott upon their return from that pathetic alternate universe populated by sheep.  Both officers had undergone a prolonged session in the agony booth, with a promise of worse to come should they ever breathe a word to anyone about their encounter with that other Enterprise.  As for McCoy, he had been spared the same treatment only because he had something far too important to lose should he expose what really happened,  something he had been foolish enough to tell Kirk about not so long ago.  Something Kirk would not hesitate to destroy should the doctor ever betray him.  A reminder of their shared secret was all it took to guarantee the doctor would keep his mouth shut and their time in the agony booth had done the same for Uhura and Scott.  All had proved very effective as his crew apparently remained oblivious to the fact an impostor was in command during the Halkan affair.  
  
Still he couldn’t discount the possibility, however slight, that his counterpart’s odd behavior did not go unnoticed by the crew, behavior that they would associate with him. Therefore, he needed to find a way to send a strong message that such behavior was in the past and that he was still the same ruthless commander he had always been. That opportunity came with the destruction of the Halkans. Their mission successful, the Enterprise's cargo hold was now bulging with dilithium and he let it be known only those who remained loyal to him would share in the profits. Anyone else would find themselves shoved into the nearest airlock.  That announcement alone was all that was needed to convince the crew that any aberrant behavior on his part was temporary and the captain they all knew and feared was back.  Still, just to drive the point home, he had devised a particularly vicious and bloody way to dispose of the Halkans. He smirked. Those peace-loving fools never stood a chance.  Even some of his most hardened crewmen had a difficult time keeping the contents of their stomachs intact after they saw the carnage firsthand while collecting the dilithium.  The rest could not and returned to the ship sweating and pale, their expressions clearly indicating they would not forget what they’d seen any time soon.  
  
The mysterious disappearance of the Enterprise's second-in-command, however, was another matter entirely. It had fueled wild speculation among the crew, especially since the Vulcan's personal guards had vanished, as well. Kirk had heard everything from all had died at his hand to the former commander had defected and was hiding out on his home planet, tucked away in some type of monastery. One thing, however, was clear - no matter the reason, the absence of the ship's feared first officer was cause for celebration among the crew and if he should ever return, his homecoming would not be a welcome one.  
  
Kirk's eyes sparkled with amusement. For, unbeknownst to most of the crew,  the Vulcan was not only very much alive, he hadn't taken refuge on his home planet or anywhere else. Rather, thanks to the influence of one temporarily displaced peace monger by the name of James T. Kirk, the former first officer of the I.S.S. Enterprise was about to embark on a new, albeit involuntary, career. It was one where he would still serve his captain, but not in a manner he could have ever anticipated or expected, much less desired.  
  
Kirk thought back to that fateful day which led to the ignominious downfall of the only Vulcan to serve active duty on an Empire starship.

_As he finished materializing, the first thing he saw was **his** first officer, complete with beard and proper uniform, saluting the return of his captain. Kirk breathed a silent sigh of relief. He was home._

_He returned the salute and was about to step off the transporter pad when something caught his eye and he paused. It was Marlena, standing slightly behind Spock. But it wasn't her presence in the room that was disquieting. Rather, it was the way her gaze kept shifting back and forth from the commander to him. There was fear and apprehension in those brown eyes, and if there was one thing he knew about Marlena, it was that she was afraid of nothing. That, more than anything else, was why she held the coveted position of the "captain's woman". Her cunning and ruthlessness matched his own and both knew those qualities guaranteed survival in the Empire. Anything less often spelled a miserable, painful existence and an early death._  
  
_A red alert went off. Something was very, very wrong. He needed answers and he needed them now._  
  
_He strode over to the transporter counsel and flipped the intercom. "Security to Transporter Room 1."  He flipped another switch. "Kirk to bridge."_  
  
_"Sulu here."_  
  
_"Current status?"_  
  
_"Holding orbit over secondary targets."_  
  
_"Re-target primaries and wait for further orders."_  
  
_"Yes, sir!" The glee in Sulu's voice was obvious. Apparently whatever orders Kirk's doppelganger had given regarding the Halkans hadn't set well with the helmsman.  Not that Kirk was surprised, given Sulu's bloodthirsty reputation._  
  
_At that moment, a security team entered the room, led by Farrell. Kirk turned to his personal guard. "Take the Commander to my quarters and wait for me there."_  
  
_An eyebrow rose at the unexpected directive. Spock was rarely allowed in his quarters, even under guard. But the Vulcan made no protest and quietly followed Farrell out of the room._  
  
_As soon as the door closed, Kirk, without warning, snatched a phaser from the nearest guard. In one swift motion, he dialed it to stun, spun around, and fired first at Uhura, then Scott.   As they collapsed to the floor, he addressed the guards. "Take them to the brig. Bind and gag them, and put them in separate cells."_  
  
_As they gathered up the limp forms, Kirk focused his gaze on McCoy.  “I trust it won’t be necessary for you to join them?”_  
  
_McCoy shuffled his feet nervously.  “No, sir.”_  
  
_“Good.  Get to Sickbay and await my orders.”_  
  
_“Yes, sir.”_  
  
_As McCoy beat a hasty retreat, Kirk turned to Marlena. "Come with me."_  
  
_He strode out the transporter room, Marlena at his heels. He entered a nearby briefing room, turned and grabbed Marlena by one arm, jerking her forward. She stumbled into him and he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her tight against his chest. He placed the tip of the phaser under her chin and forced her head back until frightened eyes met his own. Not that he was surprised. This time she had good reason to be afraid._  
  
_"Tell me."_  
  
_"Spock knows." Her voice was trembling._  
  
_"Knows what?" He forced her head back further, eliciting a small gasp of pain._  
  
_"The Tantalus device. The other Kirk - he told him about it."_  
  
_"How did that Kirk find out about the device?"_  
  
_"I...I showed him." As anger darkened his eyes, she cried out, "No! Please! I thought it was you!"_  
  
_He ignored her pleas. "What else?"_  
  
_"The other Kirk - he told Spock things could change - that the Empire was doomed and it didn't make sense for Spock to continue to be a part of it." She shifted slightly in a useless effort to ease the pain._  
  
_"Anything else?"_  
  
_She managed to nod. "He told Spock that he should take over as captain and try to save the Halkans."_  
  
_Kirk swore. Leave it to that pacifist bastard to try to incite mutiny on his ship._  
  
_"Did Spock agree?"_  
  
_"He said he'd think about it."_  
  
_It was all Kirk needed to hear. He tossed the phaser on the table and drew Marlena closer to him. Misunderstanding his intent, she leaned upward for a kiss. With a swift, sharp twist, Kirk snapped her neck and let the limp form fall to the ground._  
  
_"Sorry, my dear. You know too much and I can't trust you to keep your mouth shut."_  
  
_He stepped around the body and hit the intercom. "Kirk to Custodial."_  
  
_"Custodial. Roberts here."_  
  
_"There's a body in Briefing Room 1. Get rid of it."_  
  
_"Yes, sir."_  
  
_Kirk picked up the phaser and without a backward glance, left the room and headed for his quarters. Standing right in front were two of the Vulcan's personal guards. He paid them no heed as he keyed the door open and entered.  The first thing he saw was Spock, standing quietly a few meters away, with Farrell off to one side. Without hesitation, Kirk raised the phaser and fired. The Vulcan collapsed like a marionette whose strings had been cut, his body crumbling to the floor._  
  
_Kirk approached the still form and gave it a sharp kick in the groin. “So you think you're gonna take over my ship, do you? You sure are going to be one sorry bastard you even considered it.”_  
  
_He tossed the phaser on his desk and dialed up the Tantalus device. One by one, he eliminated the Vulcan's personal guards, starting with the two outside his door.  He turned to Farrell. "Dismissed."_  
  
_Farrell hesitated. "Sir, I don't think..."_  
  
_Kirk held up a hand. "Don't worry. By the time I'm through with him, he won't be a threat to anyone, least of all me."_  
  
_"Yes, sir."_  
  
_As Farrell departed, Kirk flipped on the intercom. "Sickbay."_  
  
_"McCoy here." There was a slight tremor to the doctor’s voice._  
  
_"Come to my quarters. Bring a feeder, the pre-surgery depilatory, and that neurotoxin designed for Vulcans."_  
  
_McCoy’s tone brightened considerably.  "Anything else? I've got an aphrodisiac here that’ll…”_  
  
_"No. Just get up here."_  
  
_"Yes, sir!"_  
  
_Kirk turned the intercom off, but not before he heard an evil cackling. Not that he was surprised. If there was anyone on board who detested Spock more than McCoy, that crewman had yet to be found. Kirk had no idea why the doctor despised the Vulcan so much nor did he care. All that mattered was McCoy kept his feelings in check during those rare times when Spock suffered an illness or injury that necessitated a trip to Sickbay. At first those visits mandated Kirk standing over McCoy, phaser in hand, just to insure the doctor didn't take advantage of the opportunity to rid himself of his hated rival._  
  
_That soon changed, however, due to McCoy's own carelessness. One night during a drunken stupor, the doctor made the mistake of telling Kirk about his daughter. Choking back tears, he confessed, in a stumbling, halting voice, that Johanna was the one thing in the universe that he truly cared about, and that he felt tremendous guilt and shame for failing her as a father. Why that was Kirk never knew, for the confession had barely left McCoy's lips before Kirk was in his quarters, making contacts and calling in favors. Within days, the little girl was located and spirited off to an undisclosed location, placed in the care of Farrell's relatives. A hefty pile of credits regularly deposited into Farrell's personal account guaranteed the child's well-being until and unless Kirk instructed otherwise._  
  
_For Kirk, he would never forget the look on McCoy's face when he learned his daughter's fate was now in his captain's hands. The doctor had pleaded and begged, promising anything so long as Johanna came to no harm. Kirk informed him the terms were simple - should McCoy or his staff fail to prevent the demise of the Enterprise's captain and/or first officer, the doctor would die and Johanna sold to the Empire’s most notorious brothel.  The strategy worked, for from that point on, McCoy's efforts to restore his two commanding officers back to health whenever one or the other landed in Sickbay were nothing short of heroic._  
  
_Now, however, that was about to change. Kirk was sure McCoy would be relieved to hear that from this point on, he only had to worry about keeping one of them alive. As for the other..._  
  
_A buzz at the door interrupted his musings. "Come."_  
  
_The door slid open and McCoy entered, carrying a small bag. His step was jaunty, reflecting his jovial mood. He chuckled when he saw the insensate form at Kirk's feet._  
  
_"Looks like someone's in trouble."_  
  
_Kirk ignored the comment. "You have everything?"_  
  
_McCoy patted the bag. "Right here. Mind if I ask what I'm supposed to do with it?" From the wicked gleam in his eyes, it was clear he already had a pretty good idea._  
  
_Kirk nodded toward the unconscious Vulcan. "Turns out my counterpart put some ideas into his head and there was a chance he was going to act on them."_  
  
_"What kind of ideas?"_  
  
_"The kind where I end up dead and he ends up in command."_  
  
_"Assassination? Really? I didn't think the fucker had the balls to even consider something like that."_  
  
_"Well, he did and now he's going to pay. Good news, Doctor, your nemesis is about to spend the rest of his life on his knees with my dick in his mouth or up his ass. And you're gonna help him get started."_  
  
_McCoy's smile grew even wider and his eyes gleamed with pleasure. Kirk ignored his obvious delight and removed the ever-present knife from his boot. Quickly, economically, he cut away every stitch of clothing until the Vulcan lay nude beneath his hand. He stood and turned to McCoy. "First things first. The neurotoxin."_  
  
_"Right." McCoy reached into his bag and pulled out a syringe. A personal favorite of McCoy's, it was not the typical modern hypo spray that injected its contents through the use of pressure. Rather, this one was the type similar to those used in twentieth century, complete with an old-fashioned needle. Swirling inside the syringe was a purplish-black substance. McCoy glanced at Kirk. "Where do you want it and how functional do you want him to be?”_  
  
_"Both hips and shoulders.  Make it so it’s difficult, but not impossible to use his arms and legs."_  
  
_McCoy grinned. "Kind of like the old 'drunken sailor' effect, huh?"_  
  
_Kirk ignored the comment. "Just get on with it."_  
  
_"Yes, sir!" McCoy squirted a few drops out of the syringe, then tapped it to remove any bubbles. Gleefully, he went down on his knees next to his hated rival. He viciously jabbed the needle into one shoulder and injected a portion of the contents. He repeated his actions on the three remaining limbs, each time thrusting the needle in as far as it would go. When he was finished, he put the hypo away and started to rise._  
  
_Kirk waved him back down. "You're not finished yet. Get the depilatory. I want him completely denuded, except for his eyebrows and hair."_  
  
_McCoy's eyes glowed with delight. "With pleasure, Captain." He snapped on a pair of surgical gloves and reached into his bag. Pulling out a large tube, he unscrewed the cap and squeezed out a generous amount of grayish brown substance. He leaned forward and spread it liberally over every inch of exposed skin he could reach. Starting with the chest, he began a rough massage, nails digging into tender flesh, fingers pinching and twisting the nipples._  
  
_Kirk watched as the dark hair scattered liberally over the lean form gradually dissolved away. He knew the depilatory was McCoy’s own special mixture, designed not only to burn hair away right down to the root, but also to leave its recipient with painful, swollen skin and an itchy, weepy rash that lasted for several days. As McCoy had never been allowed to use it on Spock before, it was unknown if the Vulcan would suffer the same unpleasant effects as had so many others._  
  
_It soon became clear, however, he would not be spared. Already the skin under McCoy’s hand was swelling and turning a deep shade of green._  
  
_McCoy glanced up at Kirk, a huge grin on his face as he gestured at the helpless form. "Look at that. It's gotta be one of the worst reactions I've ever seen!"_  
  
_Kirk ignored the comment. "Just get on with it, Doctor."_  
  
_The fact Kirk didn't share his delight in the Vulcan’s suffering did nothing to diminish McCoy's good mood as, still grinning, he spread a large portion of the depilatory over the cock and balls of his hated rival, working the substance deep into the sensitive skin. At that moment, the Vulcan stirred and gave a weak moan, signs he was beginning to recover from the heavy stun. Kirk wasn’t worried. If the neurotoxin was doing its job - and he had no reason to believe it wasn't - his former first officer was now pretty much helpless and no longer a threat to anyone._  
  
_He reached into McCoy’s bag and pulled out the “feeder”, which was little more than a common ring gag.  Its main use in Sickbay was to ensure patients were given no choice but to swallow whatever the staff chose to force down their throats, the majority of which were not only non-medicinal in purpose, but tended to be “meat oriented” more often than not.  Kneeling down, he thrust two fingers in the lax mouth, stretching it open and jamming the round, rubber-like object behind the teeth. Eyelids fluttered, then a bleary gaze met his own. A gleam of awareness appeared in the dark orbs and the Vulcan tried to shift away, but he was still much too weak. Holding the ring firmly in place, Kirk pressed the small button located just inside. He felt a slight vibration under his finger as the ring slowly began to expand, forcing the jaws open wider and wider until a slight popping noise was heard. Only then did Kirk stop the process. He gave the ring a sharp tug, but as expected, it didn’t budge. Satisfied, he sat back on his heels. At the same time, Spock's hands rose to paw uselessly at his mouth. Kirk slapped them away. "Stop that. It’s not coming out. Not now, not ever."_  
  
_He was ignored as Spock once again made an awkward attempt to remove the gag. Kirk raised a hand in warning. "Don't. Or I'll have McCoy inject you with so much neurotoxin you won't be able to so much as lift a finger."_  
  
_A brief flash of anger crossed the brown eyes, but after a long moment, he lowered his arms back down to his sides._  
  
_Kirk gained his feet as McCoy rolled Spock onto his stomach to complete his task. The doctor pushed the Vulcan's legs apart and settled down in front of the exposed buttocks. His actions elicited a garbled protest as limbs shifted weakly, and hands and feet scrabbled uselessly at the floor in a futile attempt to get away._  
  
_McCoy smiled and leaned forward, patting the dark head. "What's the matter, little Spocky? Aren't you enjoying this? I know I am." A low growl was the only response._  
  
_McCoy chuckled and once again gathered a large amount of the depilatory. He slathered it over the pale skin and began another deep and painful massage, only stopping after all the hair was dissolved and the skin glowed a bright verdant green._  
  
_Squeezing out another generous portion, McCoy, after liberally coating two fingers, forced them into the Vulcan's channel. His actions elicited a muffled groan as Spock's limbs once again shifted uselessly in an attempt to escape the doctor's not so tender ministrations of his most intimate flesh. McCoy laughed as he shoved his fingers in as far as he could. He began sliding them in and out of the tight hole in a steady rhythm as anal muscles expanded and contracted in a vain attempt to repel the intruder. McCoy leaned forward once again, his mouth close to one pointed ear. "Mmmm, doesn’t this feel good, Spocky? Don't worry, it won't for long."_  
  
_Of that Kirk had no doubt. He could only imagine the agony the Vulcan would soon suffer once the depilatory's effects made themselves known. Not that the bastard didn't deserve it._  
  
_He left McCoy to finish his task and moved to the intercom. "Kirk to Farrell.”_  
  
_"Farrell here.”_  
  
_"I have an assignment for you. Report to my quarters immediately. Bring someone from Engineering, I don’t care who.  You'll also need..."_  
  
_Less than an hour later, task complete, Farrell and his “assistant”  left the captain's quarters.  A subtle nod to Farrell sealed the crewman’s fate.  Kirk and McCoy then  inspected their handiwork._  
  
_Bolted to the floor next to Kirk's desk was, to all appearances, an old-fashioned pillory, minus the usual posts. Also, instead of wood, this was made out of transparent aluminum, one of the strongest materials in the Empire. Locked inside was the former first officer of the Enterprise, his chin only a few inches from the floor. He was panting heavily, an occasional moan escaping his control as a steady stream of drool trickled out of his mouth and dribbled onto the carpet. A thick strap was attached to each side of the pillory, encircling his legs just above his knees. This left his thighs pressed tight against his chest and his buttocks raised high in the air. His ankles were fastened together by means of a spreader bar which was also bolted to the floor. Hands were clenched in tight fists, and toes curled and uncurled as he shifted as best he could in his bonds, no doubt seeking relief from the lingering effects of the depilatory. While his skin was no longer as swollen, it was now almost completely covered by a bright green rash, most prominent over his buttocks and groin._

__

 

__

__

_McCoy chuckled. "I'd bet he'd give anything for a good scratch right now. Wouldn't you, little Spocky?" To prove his point, he laid a hand on the nearest buttock and gave it a gentle rub. The Vulcan responded with a gargled moan as he attempted to thrust himself up further into the doctor's hand. McCoy grinned and reached down, grabbing the heavy balls. He squeezed hard, nails digging into tender flesh, laughing as Spock gave a sharp cry, his hips jerking back and forth as he fought against the heavy strap holding him tightly in place._  
  
_Kirk frowned. "That’s enough, Doctor."_  
  
_Clearly disappointed, McCoy released his grip and turned to Kirk. "Mind if I ask a question?"_  
  
_"What?"_  
  
_"Just exactly how are you supposed to make use of his mouth and ass when he's trussed up like that? One's too low and the other's too high."_  
  
_"This is just temporary. I’m going to have Scott  work on something else, but it's going to take a few days."_  
  
_"Any chance I can see the finished product?"_  
  
_"We'll see. But in the meantime, not a word about any of this. Otherwise, your daughter's life is going to get a lot more difficult. And painful."_  
  
_McCoy's jovial mood instantly vanished as a look of panic crossed his features. "Captain, please, I beg you. Don't..."_  
  
_"I've told you before, McCoy, that all depends on you. As long as you do what you're told, she'll come to no harm. Now get out of here."_  
  
_Without another word, McCoy hurried out the door._  
  
Kirk shifted in his chair. That was ten days ago and while Spock had long since recovered from his rash, he'd had to suffer numerous indignities since, including rectal feedings, a catheter shoved none too gently up his cock, and perhaps the most humiliating of all, prolonged and painful enemas at the hands of McCoy. Not that the latter were all that necessary - the liquid nutrition forcibly injected into the Vulcan’s ass produced no solid waste. Rather, they were just another means to weaken his resolve and crush his spirit.  
  
It was during the first of those visits that McCoy recommended releasing Spock to determine the effects of the neurotoxin. Kirk agreed, but only after calling in Farrell. Not that he expected Spock was much of a threat anymore, but then again there was no point in taking any chances.  
  
His expectations proved to be correct as once released from his bonds, the Vulcan found it difficult, if not impossible, to control his movements. McCoy especially derived great pleasure in watching the former first officer stagger around Kirk’s quarters like a newborn foal, stumbling into walls and crashing to the floor. At one point, whether in an attempt to escape or to exact revenge, he lunged at them both, only to overbalance and tumble to the ground. McCoy began hooting with laughter as Spock, dark eyes glittering with rage, scrambled awkwardly to his feet, only to topple over once again.  It was then that Kirk put an end to the exercise with a nod to Farrell, who brought the Vulcan down with a blast from his phaser. McCoy was quick to voice a protest, but Kirk ignored him as he had Farrel strap the limp Vulcan back into his bonds. While it was somewhat amusing to see his once graceful first officer now incapable of taking more than two steps without falling over, Kirk had other plans, none of which had anything to do with the Vulcan's mobility or lack thereof.  
  
Now, with his shift finally at an end, it was time to put those plans in place. He handed the con over to Sulu and headed straight for his quarters. Standing guard outside was Farrell, who saluted as he approached. Kirk returned the salute. "The sedation?" It had been necessary to render the Vulcan completely immobile in order for Scott to carry out Kirk's directives.  
  
"Worn off, sir. He's awake and alert."  
  
"Good. Dismissed."  
  
Kirk entered his quarters and paused at the sight that met his eyes. Farrell was right. Everything indeed was to his liking. And more.  
  
It's almost like a work of art. Not that he ever cared much for art, but now he just might have to change his mind.  
  
The former second-in-command of the Enterprise was positioned between two barriers of transparent aluminum, one behind and one in front. A metallic bar was attached to the top of each barrier, running down the center between the two. Directly underneath Spock knelt on a gleaming reflective surface, held in place by ankles fastened tightly to the now-familiar spreader bar bolted to the floor. A thick collar was clamped around his neck, a metallic ring on top threaded through the bar above his head. His wrists were encased in heavy manacles behind his back, held aloft by a second ring also encircling the bar. The nature of his bonds severely restricted any movement save the ability to shift a few inches back and forth. An occasional shudder racked the nude form, no doubt due to the fact the temperature had been lowered significantly since the former first officer had taken up residence in Kirk's quarters. While the atmosphere was a bit uncomfortable even for Kirk, it was worth the inconvenience. The constant cold was yet another method to wear the Vulcan down.  
  
Kirk drew closer to his "work of art". The mirrored floor reflected every inch of vulnerable flesh, from the puckered navel to the limp cock and heavy balls dangling between wide-spread thighs.  
  
But it wasn’t the reflection in the polished surface that drew his attention. Rather, it was the two perfectly round holes in each of the barriers – one at the level of Spock's ass, the other his mouth. Both would play an essential role in preparing his former second-in-command for his new role in life.  
  
Spock had grown still upon Kirk's arrival, no doubt keenly aware of his captain's presence. As Kirk approached, the Vulcan turned his head as far as the thick collar would allow. Their eyes met and a flash of anger crossed the dark orbs before Spock's gaze shifted away. Clearly, despite what he'd been forced to endure the past few days, his spirit remained unbroken. In a way, Kirk was pleased the Vulcan showed no signs of surrender; it would make the next few hours that much more entertaining. For Kirk, at least.  
  
He knelt down, cupping Spock's chin in his hand and twisting the dark head toward him as far as it would go. The ever-present ring gag caused a small amount of drool to dribble down his fingers, but he paid no mind as he quickly jammed four fingers of his other hand into the wide-open cavern. There was a low growl of protest, which was quickly choked back as Kirk forced his fingers to the back of the throat. Fingernails scraped the delicate soft palate, triggering the Vulcan’s gag reflex.  Spock immediately began choking and gasping, his eyes filling with tears as he fought to get away.  But there was nowhere to go and he was forced to endure the harsh treatment until, after a few moments, Kirk withdrew his hand.  Ignoring the Vulcan’s continued gagging and coughing, Kirk wiped his fingers dry in the silky black hair.  He patted the dark head in mock affection before moving over to his desk. On top lay a syringe identical to the one McCoy had used for the neurotoxin, except this time it was filled with a purplish liquid.  Next to it lay two large dildos. They had been specifically crafted to match Kirk's own rather sizeable equipment. More, the base of each was designed so that once each dildo had been inserted through its corresponding hole in the barrier, it could be locked in place.  
  
Kirk grabbed the nearest one and returned to stand in front of the bound and helpless Vulcan. He bent over and waved the dildo under Spock's nose. "Want to guess where this is going? I'll give you a hint - it's either your mouth or your ass."  
  
His remarks earned him a scornful look even as he slid the dildo into the open mouth and swirled it around until it was well-coated with saliva. As he pulled it out, Spock turned his head away in complete disregard, even giving what could only be described as a disdainful sniff.  
  
Kirk stepped back and grinned. "Not impressed, I take it? Well, I guess I'll just have to try harder." He snapped his fingers. "I've got it, Science Officer. What do you say we conduct an experiment? Let's see how see how long it takes for you to start fucking your own ass."  
  
There was no overt reaction save a slight shiver, but that could just be due to the cold. Obviously Kirk was going to have to work harder to get the Vulcan's attention. If, however, everything went according to plan, Spock would soon be the one doing all the work.  
  
Kirk crossed to the barrier behind his former first officer and slid the dildo partially through the opening. Slowly, carefully, he eased the tip between the pale buttocks until it came to rest against the puckered opening. Spock went rigid for a moment, glancing quickly over his shoulder before turning away and focusing his gaze resolutely ahead.  
  
Kirk chuckled and began sliding the dildo back and forth, each time just barely brushing against the tightly clenched hole. Spock, however, clearly did not share his enjoyment, for he turned his head once again, this time locking eyes with Kirk. Brown orbs glittered with rage and garbled threats no doubt promising dire consequences rose from his throat.  
  
Kirk grinned. "Don't like that, do you? Then I guess you're really not going to enjoy this." With that, he placed his hand on the base of the dildo and slammed it against the barrier as hard as he could. Spock gave a sharp gasp and jerked forward as the dildo plowed its way through sensitive flesh at much too rapid a pace for comfort, the rings holding the Vulcan aloft jangling noisily as they bounced and slid along the bar. Almost immediately they stilled as Spock suddenly froze. He drew several deep breaths as he focused his gaze on the mirrored surface beneath him. Clearly he was fighting to gain control, a battle he was apparently winning as his body slowly relaxed in its bonds. Yet he could not claim total victory, for the muscles surrounding his anus continued to spasm and contract in a vain attempt to expel the dildo now firmly lodged inside.  
  
Grinning, Kirk locked it into place and moved to the desk. Picking up the other dildo, he returned to his helpless captive and inserted the dildo through the remaining hole in the barrier. He then grabbed a handful of thick black hair and jerked the dark head back. Glittering black eyes met his own as he easily slid the dildo into the open mouth. This time, however, he took his time, slowly working the hard object past tongue and teeth. Spock let out a choked gasp and arched his back in an attempt to pull away from the dildo making its way inexorably down his throat and at the same time avoid impaling himself even further on its twin sunk deep in his ass.  
  
As the base of the dildo came to a halt against the glass, Kirk locked it into place, then reached down and patted the dark head. "All set. Now it's time for you to start learning your new duties."  
  
Spock gave a low growl and pulled back from his touch, only to immediately lean forward again. Kirk had no trouble discerning why. With both dildos now in place, any movement the Vulcan made in either direction drove one or the other deeper into its corresponding orifice. His only choice was to remain in the exact center between the two so that both had only minimal impact. Which was exactly what he was doing at the moment.  
  
That, however, was not an option. His former first officer was here to pay the price for his betrayal and he was not going to have the luxury of doing so on his terms. His fate was now in Kirk's hand and it was time he learned that particular lesson.  
  
Kirk moved behind his former first officer and reached down between the wide-spread thighs. Gathering the heavy balls in one hand, he squeezed them as hard as he could, nails digging into tender flesh. At the same time he leaned over the bound form until his mouth was right next to one pointed ear. "You have a decision to make. Either you get one dildo all the way down your throat or the other deep in your ass. You've got exactly five seconds to decide which or I'll decide for you."  
  
He released his grip and straightened, mentally counting down the time. When he'd gotten to four, Spock, after taking a deep breath, slowly inched forward, his lips sliding along the length of the dildo until they were almost touching the barrier. He grew still, eyes closed, breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he struggled to accommodate the hard object now lodged tight in his throat.  
  
"Keep going. Put that treacherous tongue of yours to good use for once."  
  
A brief hesitation, then his former first officer started swallowing in rapid, shuddering gulps, over and over, his Adam's apple bobbing rhythmically as he struggled to force the dildo even deeper down his throat.  
  
Kirk couldn't help but grin at the sight. Spock of Vulcan, who had royal blood running through his veins; who, at least three times that Kirk knew of, refused a command of his own; whose long reign as first officer of the Enterprise was one of fear and terror, yet who always maintained an air of controlled dignity; was, at this moment, trying his best to "deep throat" a dildo. Apparently without much success, for he was now gagging and retching, eyes blinking rapidly as tears streamed down his face to mingle with the drool on his chin.  
  
Suddenly he jerked backward, choking and gasping, his throat convulsing as he took deep, shuddering breaths around the dildo still wedged partially in his mouth. He was quaking violently as he fought to replenish his body with much-needed oxygen.  
  
He was so preoccupied that he failed to notice that he'd inadvertently impaled himself further onto the dildo in his ass. Almost the entire length was now buried deep inside the tight channel, the muscles surrounding the anus once again pulsing wildly as they fought a futile battle to expel the intruder.  
  
Kirk's gaze shifted downward and he grinned.  Clearly reflected in the mirrored surface, the green-tinged cock was now stirring in the first stages of arousal.    
  
Spock must have realized it too, for his mouth firmed around the dildo and grim determination filled the brown orbs as he surged forward once again, stopping only when his nose was pressed tight against the barrier. A feeling of total and complete victory rose in Kirk as the Vulcan, eyes closed, brow furrowed, began swallowing rapidly once again. While it was doubtful Spock had ever done anything like this before, he was certainly proving to be a quick study. Not that he was being given any other choice.  
  
When it came to "deep throating", however, there was one thing Kirk knew that Spock didn't. When one was first learning the technique, it was important to take it slow in order to give one's gag reflex time to adjust. Spock was obviously going much too fast and it was only a matter of time before he paid the price.  
  
Sooner than later, it seemed, as he was swallowing even faster now, his Adam's apple bobbing wildly, his eyes once again tearing rapidly, his entire body quivering and shaking. He was drenched in sweat and his lips were now mashed against the barrier.  
  
Kirk shook his head in amazement. It was clear the dildo was playing havoc with the sensitive tissues of the Vulcan's throat. Every fiber of his being must be screaming at him to stop, to back away from the hard object causing so much pain and distress. But he remained stubbornly in place, despite his obvious suffering. Kirk began to wonder just exactly how long he could hold on before his body rebelled against him.  
  
He didn't have to wait long to find out, as seconds later, without warning, Spock's nostrils suddenly clogged, a clear sign the dildo was now so far down his throat that it was cutting off his nasal passages. In a valiant effort, Spock struggled mightily to take in air, but it was a losing battle. The panicked look in his eyes said it all.  
  
Kirk watched, fascinated, as Spock, apparently realizing he had no other choice, reluctantly shifted back until just the tip of the dildo remained in his mouth. He took deep, shuddering breaths, his cheeks rapidly puffing in and out as long lines of drool hung from his mouth.  
  
After a few minutes, Spock took a deep breath and pushed forward again. His lips encircled around the dildo and traveled slowly up its length, threads of saliva forming and breaking along the way. Before he had even gotten half of it in his mouth, he stopped, a violent shudder shaking the thin frame. At the same time, a soft, choking sound rose from his throat as his face twisted in obvious pain. He eased back again, panting heavily, eyes closed, face pinched with distress and fatigue. He appeared to be on the verge of total collapse, the dildo still wedged in his mouth and the one now once again buried in his ass the only things seemingly holding him up.  
  
But that inherent stubbornness refused to admit defeat, so once again he pushed forward, despite the fact he was clearly exhausted. His persistence was no doubt fueled by the fact that given the choice, he’d much rather have a dildo in his mouth as opposed to his ass.  Little did he know that he would be changing his mind very, very soon.  
  
"Beneath your dignity, isn't it?" Kirk wasn't expecting a reply, as the dildo was once again lodged deep in the Vulcan's throat, so much so that one nostril was completely clogged and he was struggling to breathe through the other. "All those human necessities and vices you never could be bothered with - sleeping and eating and fucking. You like to believe you're in control of all that, don't you? Like to think your superior intelligence puts you above all that."  
  
Whereas before his comments might have earned him a angry glare, this time Spock was too preoccupied trying to get the dildo even further down his throat. While his breathing was now coming easier, there were occasional choking and gagging noises. A combination of spittle and drool ran down his chin and dribbled onto the floor. His muscles were taut as he fought the urge to lean back, violent tremors constantly shaking the lean form. Yet despite his efforts, after only about 30 seconds, he was forced to back off again, his breath coming in harsh gasps and his cock still just as hard as before.  
  
Thus began a steady rhythm as Spock would make a valiant attempt to force the dildo down his throat, all the while gulping, retching, coughing, his eyes tearing, before shifting backward, panting heavily, hanging limp in his bonds, the only movement a slight shifting of his hips in an apparent effort to dislodge the dildo in his ass. Then forward once again, and back, forward and back, in an unending repetitive rhythm.  As time went by, however, he was soon spending longer periods of time impaled on the dildo in his ass as he fought a losing battle against exhaustion and pain. Still he pushed on, some small part of him refusing to admit defeat.  
  
Yet still through it all his cock still remained relatively soft.  Time for that change of mind.  
  
Kirk returned to his desk and picked up the syringe, then moved back to his helpless captive.  As he knelt next to the exposed cock and balls, he was very aware the Vulcan’s eyes were following his every move.  They then focused on the syringe, a mixture of puzzlement and apprehension filling the dark orbs.  
  
Kirk patted the nearest buttock.  “Courtesy of McCoy.  He wanted to be here to see how well it worked, but I refused.  Still, I did promise him a full report.  Let’s see what it’s going to say.”    
  
Without further ado, he grabbed the nearest scrotum and pulled hard.  Before the Vulcan could react, Kirk plunged the needle through the thin skin and emptied half the contents into the soft flesh.  A harsh cry of agony rose from the Vulcan’s throat, partially muffled by the dildo, his body thrashing desperately against his bonds, the rings tossing and jangling wildly as they repeatedly struck the bar in a bizarre musical rhythm as, the dildos temporarily forgotten, he struggled and fought a futile battle to escape the pain.  
  
Kirk paid no heed as he emptied the remaining contents into the second ball.  Then tossing the syringe aside, he began to give the Vulcan a rough handjob, squeezing and massaging the penis and testicles mercilessly until he felt them swell and harden under his touch.  The Vulcan by now had ceased his thrashing and, moaning continuously, had begun grinding into the dildo behind him. Kirk removed his hand and watched as Spock, his cock now dribbling a steady stream of precum onto the mirrored surface beneath him, began rocking back and forth, loud, guttural cries rising from his throat as he strove to impale himself even further on the dildo in his ass. Back and forth, back and forth, hips pistoning, the look in his eyes one of mindless hunger. Hunger for the hard object filling his channel, hunger for the pressure on his prostate, hunger to be fucked.  
  
Kirk moved to the front of the barrier. He unlocked the dildo from its base and slowly, carefully, drew it out of the Vulcan's mouth. He stepped back to watch the reaction. To his amazement, Spock didn't even seem to notice the dildo that held him firmly in place was now gone. Instead, he continued to fuck himself frantically on the one remaining, throwing himself back and forth as best he could in his bonds, his ass colliding with the barrier again and again. His eyes were wild and he was grunting with each rhythmic thrust. His cock was leaking even more precariously now, his inner thighs and floor now splattered with cum, causing him to occasionally slip and slide on his knees. Still he continued rutting mindlessly, heedless of his surroundings.  
  
Kirk moved behind him and swiftly removed the dildo. As Spock's ass released it with a wet pop! , the Vulcan once again gave no indication he knew it was gone. Instead, he continued grinding his ass against the barrier even more frantically than before, moans and whimpers rising from his throat.  
  
Kirk stepped up to the dark head, waving the dildo under the Vulcan’s nose.  “Missing something?"  
  
This time he was heard as Spock jerked his head back and he locked gazes with Kirk. His eyes were wild, wet strands of hair stuck to his forehead and neck. Suddenly he froze and his expression changed to one of shock. Followed by horror. And shame. And embarrassment.  
  
After a long moment Spock dropped his gaze to the floor, apparently in an attempt to regain some modicum of dignity. Not that there was much to find. He drew several deep, shuddering breaths as he tried to still quivering muscles. But his cock, thanks to the injection, remained rock-hard, a vein alongside pulsing wildly to the rhythm of his heart, and his ass remained pressed tight against the barrier.  
  
Kirk moved behind the Vulcan, unfastened his pants and quickly shed them, along with his underwear. His cock, now free from its confines, bobbed about wildly, as if seeking its prey. He eased it through the barrier and halfway into the spastic, open hole in Spock's ass. To his surprise and delight, the Vulcan made no attempt to move. Instead he remained frozen in place, head lowered, breath still coming in heaving gasps. Obviously his body had taken control, had demanded that brilliant mind give in to his primal carnal human needs.  
  
Partially sheathed inside his former first officer, Kirk paused. And waited.  
  
He could see Spock's face in the mirror, the Vulcan's expression a mixture of frustration, need, and puzzlement. No doubt he was wondering why his captain simply stood there, didn't just start grinding away. Then realization set in.  
  
With a strangled moan, Spock pushed back, forcing himself onto Kirk's shaft, not stopping until Kirk's balls were resting against his groin. He began rocking back and forth, moaning, groaning, and whimpering as his ass made steady, rhythmic contact with the barrier as he ground away.  
  
Kirk remained absolutely still, his gaze focused on Spock's face through the reflective floor. He grinned when he saw the desperate expression of lust, desire, and shame. His grin widened when, after a few more thrusts, Spock came with a wild, anguished cry, his seed releasing itself in a wild arch before splattering all over stomach, thighs, and floor. Moments later, Kirk followed, filling the tight channel with his own issue, marking the Vulcan as his and his alone.  
  
As he pulled out, he glanced down once more at his new acquisition. The Vulcan hung nearly insensate in his bonds, eyes closed, body limp, breath coming in harsh gasps. Semen dribbled from his open, gaping hole, traveling down his legs to the mirrored floor while more of the same was drying into a sticky mess on his stomach, thighs, and legs. He looked every bit the whore he now was.  
  
Kirk smiled in satisfaction. Once again he was victorious, had easily conquered that which others might think could not be conquered. Including the conquered itself. The Vulcan had learned the same lesson all Kirk's enemies eventually learned - that the word "defeat" wasn't in his vocabulary and never would be. At least, not until he was dead.  
  
Of course in his world, that could be his fate in the next hour, the next day, the next week, the next year. But that was the price that came with being a high profile target and for now at least, he was willing to pay that price. Especially - he glanced down once more at his prize - when it meant he had the opportunity to reap these types of rewards. The unquestioned, unchallenged right his position gave him to do whatever he wished to whomever he wished was worth any price. Particularly now.  
  
 He knelt down next to his prize and after swiping his hand through the mess on the floor, he spread a generous amount over the Vulcan’s face, working it into ears, nostrils, and open mouth.  Another handful was vigorously massaged into the dark hair before the rest was spread over every inch of exposed skin.  
  
 He then grabbed the now empty balls.  Rolling them between his fingers, he glanced into dark eyes filled with uncertainty and apprehension.  “I hope you enjoyed that because it won’t happen again.  I don’t have any use for these anymore so when I return I’m bringing McCoy and he’s going to take them off.”  
  
 The Vulcan gave a sharp but muffled cry of protest as he tried to jerk away from Kirk’s grip.  
  
  "Oh, stop complaining.  It’s not like anyone wants a Vulcan mongrel to reproduce anyway.  So I’m just doing them all a favor.”  
  
 He rose, gave one pale buttock a hard slap, and then turned and headed toward the fresher. A shower and change was definitely in order before he headed back to the bridge. He gave no thought to the semen and drool-covered Vulcan bound to the floor. He knew how fastidious his former first officer was and it would serve to degrade him even further if he was left as is, with no choice but to endure as his and Kirk's combined bodily fluids dried on his skin.  Besides, chances were the Vulcan was more focused on his upcoming gelding than his current state of uncleanliness.   Either way, both would serve as lessons for him to learn with many more to be pounded into him until he accepted his new role.  
  
Kirk chuckled.  Pounded indeed.  He headed toward the bathroom and after quickly ducking under the sonics, pulled on a fresh uniform.  He dialed down the temperature another 10 degrees, dimmed the lights, and left his quarters without a backward glance.


End file.
